Pilar took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His voice trembled at first, then steadied as he began to explain.
"Name's Pilar. This is my sister, Rebecca. We're edgerunners, freelancers, small-time transport gigs mostly. Got on the wrong side of the Wraiths, lost our ride in the dunes, and ended up here by pure accident."
He swallowed, his throat dry. "We know Night City, Corpo zones, gang turf, fixer haunts, nomad strongholds, all of it. The Maelstrom control the Watson border, Tyger Claws got Japantown on lock. Aldecaldos and Jodes keep the badlands moving, and the rest's just chrome junk fighting over scraps."
Rebecca added quickly, voice sharp, chin tilted up like she was trying to mask her nerves. "Yeah, and we've run jobs for a few of 'em too. We know the roads, the black markets, and who's dirty with Arasaka creds. We can help you if you need city info. We're good at staying alive, choom."
"Edgerunners? I know that term, most edgerunners hang around Afterlife, which is owned by Rogue."
Osiris's voice cut through their speech, low and steady, startling them both. "She is reportedly a ruthless character."
A pause. "Continue."
Pilar blinked, taken aback. "You... you know Rogue?" He cleared his throat and pushed on, feeling even less sure. "Yeah, she's the top fixer in Night City. Nobody gets jobs without her nod. Even corpos watch their step around her."
Rebecca's eyes lit up. "You know Rogue too? Damn, that's wild! Then you know her rules, right? Never double-cross, pay up front. She's the Queen of Night City!"
Osiris's optical lenses rotated slightly, focusing on her. "My database contains relevant records. Continue to provide valid information. Do not deviate from the topic."
The siblings exchanged a look and went on, listing out everything they knew, gang movements, rumors about new cyberware smuggling routes, whispered talk of Arasaka testing AI combat units in the outskirts.
They spoke fast, driven by fear, their voices echoing faintly against the metal walls.
Osiris listened in perfect stillness, crimson optics occasionally adjusting focus. The servo-skull hovered near his shoulder, recording each word.
Occasionally, a tiny flicker of light passed across the tech-priest's faceplate, as though some long-buried recognition stirred, only to be filed away as data.
When Pilar finally ran out of words, he exhaled shakily. "That's... that's all we got, sir. We just wanna live. We didn't mean to mess up your place. If it's fine by you, we'll bounce, quiet, no fuss."
Silence.
The kind that pressed on the chest and made air feel heavier.
Then Osiris moved, a slow, deliberate step forward. Metal on concrete. The sound made Rebecca flinch, her finger twitching near her pistol.
But he didn't attack.
A tentacle extended, curling toward the corpses on the floor. Without hesitation, Osiris began to work, precisely disassembling cyberware, extracting chips and mechanical parts. The movements were coldly elegant, efficient, like a craftsman reclaiming components from a broken drone.
Rebecca swallowed hard, whispering, "He's... he's looting them?"
"Waste is shameful," Osiris said without looking up, voice even. "Resources should be utilized efficiently."
He turned his lenses back to them, the red glow unwavering. "Current assessment: You are being pursued, vehicle destroyed, resources insufficient. Independent survival probability, below eighteen percent."
A beat.
"Proposal: Work for me. In exchange for shelter and necessary sustenance."
Rebecca's breath caught. Pilar stared, uncertain.
Osiris continued, one tentacle retrieving a power gauntlet from the nearby workbench.
The metal humming faintly with restrained strength. "Additionally, I can offer tools, high-performance weaponry. And physical optimization."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "Holy, look at that thing! You could punch through a damn AV hull with it!"
Pilar's eyes flicked to it, then to his aching shoulder. He winced. "How... how'd you know I was hurt?"
"Your posture and left-arm movement indicate approximately eleven-point-seven percent signal attenuation," Osiris interrupted smoothly. "Likely due to improper cyberware installation or collision trauma. It impairs precision."
Pilar opened his mouth, then closed it again. "...Right."
Rebecca stepped forward, voice cautious but curious. "So... what's the job, exactly?"
"Resource collection. Information reconnaissance. Technical maintenance and field testing. Your local experience and unconventional tactics possess moderate value," Osiris replied flatly. "In return, I offer protection within my domain, physiological repairs, and combat optimization."
Rebecca's eyes flickered with a dangerous kind of excitement. "Combat optimization, huh? Like what? Guns? Mods?"
"Dependent on performance and contribution," Osiris answered. "Possibilities include enhanced firepower systems or improved mobility augmentations."
Pilar shifted, meeting Rebecca's gaze. Both were clearly tempted.
Outside lay the wasteland, death, and Wraiths. Here stood an inhuman being who talked like a machine but offered power and safety.
Rebecca tilted her head, smirking nervously. "Alright, metal priest dude. One last thing."
A pause. "Does it include food and a place to crash?"
Osiris hesitated for half a second, processing.
"Basic energy supply and physiological maintenance assured," he replied. "Including synthetic nutrient packs and hydration systems."
Rebecca grinned faintly. "Heh. Guess that's a yes."